How to Marry a Billionaire?

Once upon a time, in a pre-Mad Men America, a little girl with wispy blond hair and blue plastic framed glasses was in love with Walt Disney. Not the Walt Disney corporation; with the product--Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck--the usual suspects.

A card-carrying member of the Mickey Mouse Club wearing her treasured pair of Mickey Mouse ears bought in Disneyland--complete with a foam pink bow, the little girl would every day after school sit in front of the black-and-white television to watch The Mickey Mouse show. Fantasizing about being friends with also the also blond but ever so beautiful Karen Pendelton, the little girl loved, really LOVED Walt Disney. She so loved Walt Disney that she saved from her limited allowance one dollar to send to Walt Disney, "to help".

The Walt Disney Company sent the dollar back back with a kind letter--no doubt amused, maybe touched by the child's belief in The Walt Disney Company. In those days corporations weren't people; they were just staffed with people.

Fast forward into the insanity of today's world when a few so-called adults wearing seriously black robes pretend to have the judgment to decide that corporations have First Amendment rights just like people (Citizens United).

Given this legalization of what Mitt Romney believes, that "Corporations are people, my friend", why can't that little girl marry The Walt Disney Company? How does one marry a corporation? Is a corporation male or female? Or in these days when anyone may marry anyone else (at least in some progressive states), does it matter? How to handle the names? If Maggie Oakshot marries the Walt Disney Corporation, does she become Maggie Oakshot Walt Disney Corporation? Does that make Maggie a corporation too? How does a corporation consummate a marriage with a humanoid? Can I marry my phone, even though it is an android--or is racist to keep us apart? And am I seriously asking these questions?

Yes. I am. When the lunatics take over the funny farm, or the corporate money men (and women) take over the US Government--this is a very very serious subject.

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Meet The Blogger

Candace Drimmer

I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America.
After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.